Category Archives: Thoughts

I can’t believe it’s been almost three months since my last post. I’m sorry. I can feel it in my heart that it’s been that long. I’ve missed this so much. This has always kind of been my trend, where I blog a lot for a period of time and then go missing for months. I hate that. I’m putting that out there as both a way of acknowledging it and asking you to bug me about it. :)

I really don’t have any projects or insights to share with you, but it had been so long since I blogged that I had a certain amount of anxiety about it. This is kind of me just breaking back into the blog world. I’ve got some ideas for the near future, so stay tuned.

I have been sorting through years of photos, cards, notes, and doodles as I get serious about my Project Life album. This is a daunting task. I save EVERYTHING. I’ve had the intention of scrapbooking everything I’ve saved, I’ve just never started said scrapbook. Which is why I was ecstatic when I learned about Becky Higgins’ Project Life. Seriously, if you didn’t already click the link, do it now. I’ll wait…

See? Amazing. I love her and everything she creates. (TANGENT: I used to catch a lot of grief for “loving everything.” I think people thought I wasn’t capable of actually loving everything I said I loved. I’ve learned over the years that I am, in fact, capable. I love lots of things. I really love Becky.) As I was saying… Project Life makes everything easier. And prettier. I can’t wait to start showing you some of my pretty, pretty pages. In the meanwhile, I found this quote scribbled on a piece of paper in a drawer and it grabbed my attention. So powerful.

I’m feeling caught in a tough place with our G-free transition, as our bodies are adjusting and breaking through an addiction. I’m tired and stressed and just flat out exhausted. But I’m not giving up, because Ms. Stowe tells me the tide is just about to turn.

It was this time last year that I wrote a post about the “resolutions” [or rather, lack thereof] I had for 2012, and a brief recap of 2011. Today I went back and read it. I’m really glad I wrote that post because now I have such a different view on it. It is so good to be able to go back and review where you’ve been. Not to live in the past, but to put the present in perspective.

A lot has changed for me in the last 12 months. I was so happy to welcome the new year last night. I never want to wish away time spent here on earth, but 2012 was a whirlwind. A lot of good happened, and a lot of bad tried to trump that good. I refuse to let that happen. I’m torn this year on whether a “recap” is appropriate. I’m sure I’d like to look back a year from now and pat myself on the back, saying “wow, you came through a really dark time, way to go!” but I also think that maybe it’s all better just left behind. That was what midnight was for me. I spent the evening with a small group of very close friends and family and we built a fire while it was snowing. I drank some wine and sledded down the hill in my back yard on a piece of cardboard. Most significantly, I showed 2012 the door.

I’ve got big plans for 2013.

BIG.

And I hope you’ll join me on this journey.

I’m going to lose some weight. Maybe I’ll talk my husband into helping me make a baby. ;) I’m going to watch my little brother marry an amazing woman. I’m going to craft. craft. craft. I’m going to be the best mommy, wife, sister, daughter, and friend I can be. I’m going to be the new-and-improved-Kylee. And I’m going to kick 2013’s butt! What do you say… wanna come along? <3

You can’t tell, but in this picture, there are 4 of us. It is the only “photo” I have of us as a family.

My brother took these pictures while we were all home for Thanksgiving. We went out on Friday afternoon and found an open field for some quick family portraits. The next day I found myself in the emergency room. I had an 8 week old embryo inside of me… without a heartbeat.

This year has been challenging. I think it’s hard for us (at least, hard for me) not to think of things in terms of finite time periods. We talk about having a horrible week at work and New Year’s resolutions. Everything has a “restart” point. The first of the year, the first of the month, the first of the week… but does it really matter? Can’t change start today? Or tomorrow. Or next Thursday? Can’t things get better at any point? Do we force ourselves into a routine that says “it’s going to suck until 01.01.13.”? I want to be strong enough to say, “No, that’s not good enough. It’s going to suck until I say STOP.” But I don’t know if I am.

I’ve been feeling very sorry for myself lately.

The last time I posted here was the week of the UNplaza Art Fair. What an INCREDIBLE experience!! I loved it. I loved being brave enough to OWN my work for two full days in front of hundreds of strangers. I loved all of the support I got from all of my friends and family. I loved being there. Since then a lot has changed.

We found out we were pregnant with Baby #2 on October 17th. I was so excited and so skeptical all at the same time. I took 8 pregnancy tests. They were all very positive, yet I couldn’t believe them. When we told our families, I whispered to my mom, “don’t get too attached. Anything could happen. It’s still so early.” I was almost five weeks pregnant and I had a very healthy pregnancy the first time around. I didn’t have reason to worry, but I did. A week before my miscarriage we had lunch with a friend. I told him how I had been feeling very well physically but that I couldn’t get past the haunting thoughts that I’d never hold my baby. I expressed my fears of losing the baby, and he assured me I had nothing to worry about. He said “you should be thankful that you’re feeling well. Enjoy this time!” I still don’t know what made me so uncertain about this baby, but I was. I tried to take my friend’s advice.

I loved her so much already, and I was so afraid of losing her. That dark Saturday night will be one I will never forget. I knew something was wrong, even though my symptoms weren’t anything the doctors were concerned with. I could tell they thought I was overreacting. When the sonogram tech did our ultrasound, in the first 10 seconds she offered me relief, saying “I can see your uterus and your baby inside, and I see the heartbeat.” I was so relieved. But then she was quiet. And then she looked harder. And then she switched equipment and looked again. After what seemed like an hour, she looked at me with tears in her eyes and said “I’m so sorry, I don’t know what I saw, but it wasn’t a heartbeat. You have an 8 week old embryo with no heartbeat.” I will never forget those words. Ever. They bring me such sorrow every time I recall that night. And the days that followed. The days of knowing I’d never hold my baby, but that I was still carrying her.

It’s been 3 weeks now. I’m posting this because I think I’m finally ready to talk. And I’m hoping that maybe my words might be comfort to someone else. The week that I learned of my miscarriage and had a D&C was a very hard week. I was so sad. My son was so excited to have a baby and he still, even now, will kiss my belly and say “Momma, baby?”. It breaks my heart, but I endure it for him. We decided not to explain to him what happened, because he is too small to understand. He is only two, and he has no idea how long it takes to grow a baby in Momma’s belly. We’ll try again when we’re ready and when he has his baby he’ll breathe a sigh of relief, too. “Finally!” he’ll think!!

I spent the second week after my heartbreak reasoning with myself. Praying to God and asking for answers. I was better. I knew that God had needed to bring my angel home for a reason. She wasn’t supposed to live on earth and He still needed her. I know, without a doubt, that I will hold my baby when I get to Heaven. And that has to be okay.

Last week was hard again. And I expect that this is how it’s going to be for a while. A roller coaster of feelings. But I’m doing my best to let myself feel them. I’m crying now for this, and yet I’m somewhat numb to the other things going on around me. I lost a friend this week–no, not to death, but rather to a disagreement in which we couldn’t reach a compromise–and I couldn’t even feel that. I was angry at some of the hurtful things she said to me, but after a couple hours I realized that it was okay for us to disagree and decide to take separate paths. She’s not the only one I’ve lost this year, though, which has made me callous to the idea of letting others in. The loss has been so great, that I just don’t feel like my heart can handle it.

I’m not sure where this post is going. And maybe that’s okay. I know that I haven’t posted since September and my husband has been nagging me to get back to it. And I’ve wanted to, but I’ve felt so cynical. So jaded. But today I’m telling myself: let it go.

I’m not saying I’m going to just put this up and everything is going to get all better. I’m just saying that I’m taking my first step today. I’m choosing to let it go, and allowing God to heal me.

This weekend was a true “paint-a-thon” at my house. I haven’t posted here since I was accepted to the UNplaza Art Fair (sorry for that, in case you missed me!) so I suppose I have a lot to catch you up on.

I love Kansas City. I’ve lived in the Greater KC area most of my life, and I honestly didn’t realize just how much I loved it until I moved away after college. I’m still close enough that I visit there often, but there’s nothing quite like living there. My favorite time of year in Kansas City is fall festival season. I live for the local art fairs. My favorite is the UNplaza Art Fair, held the second to last weekend of September each year. Every year my family and I walk the church grounds where the fair is held and I tell my husband “Someday I’m going to be here. Not just shopping, but showcasing. I am going to be in the UNplaza Art Fair before I die.” Each year I’m really excited about it, and then I don’t think about it again until the following September.

This year has been hard. I have had more struggles than I’d like to remember and I’ve lost a number of friends. I’ve been through ups and downs and a lot of self discovery. Somewhere in there I mentioned to my hubby that I had been on the UNplaza website looking at their application requirements. We talked about it (I don’t think I was all that serious) and we moved on with our lives. Then the application deadline got closer. And closer. And closer. He would mention it and I would entertain his encouragement but knew deep down that they wouldn’t want me. I think that thought was comforting to me. I applied . I took a shot in the dark, banking on the fact that they would send me my rejection letter and I could show my husband that he’s the only one who thinks I’m that good after all. But they didn’t. One one of my very darkest days in July, my husband came home from work to find me still in my pajamas, sitting on the couch, the house a disaster and our son still half naked from his nap. He had grabbed the mail on his way in and held a large envelope addressed to me in his hands. He hesitated to hand it to me, but I think he assumed they would have sent a much smaller letter if they were rejecting me. I barely had the envelope torn open when I read the first line. I had been accepted. They wanted me there. THEY WANTED ME THERE. I bawled my eyes out. First because I was so happy that they had liked what they saw, and then because I was scared to death. That fear has never disappeared.

Fast forward to now. It’s been two months since I was accepted, and they have been an incredibly trying two months. I’ve been through a lot medically and even more emotionally. Now please don’t get me wrong. I am incredibly blessed, and all things considered, I am in a really good place. I’ve just been feeling a little more weak than usual. But this show makes my top-five-most-important-evens-in-my-life list. And I’ve been ignoring it because I’m so scared. Well, no more ignoring for me!

I talked to my brother on Friday. He’s always so encouraging to me. He is one of the greatest artists I’ve ever known. I was discussing my fears with him, and how I wasn’t sure I belonged at a true “art fair” because I have a hard time taking my art very seriously. I told him I thought I would be so much more comfortable at a craft-type fair. He then asked me, “what do you think the difference is between “art” and “craft”?” I hadn’t ever thought about it in the sense of defining them separately. I thought for a moment and he offered his take. He said that craft has more to do with an end product. You can find a project on Pinterest and head to the store, pick up the supplies, set to work, and have an end product. But art is different. In Keith’s words: art is exploration. Art isn’t so much about the end product as it is about how you got there.

So it clicked at about 4:00 this morning. I was finishing a painting and I realized that I didn’t really care so much about the painting as I did about how I felt at that moment. I took a step back and thought about where I was two months ago when I first received that letter. I thought about all the days I haven’t wanted to get out of bed since that day. I thought about all of the struggles I’ve been through this year, and I realized, while this year has truly been a tough one, it has been beautiful. I have made a great exploration and I am ever changing… as is the art all around us.

I keep trying to write this post, and I keep getting nowhere. So I decided that maybe I could have some very special quotes write it for me.

In this life I’ve had many people come and go from my life, but there’s one recent loss that really messed with me. I decided I needed to walk away for a while.

“Sometimes you have to let go to see if there was anything worth holding on to.”

I walked away, and so did she. I still love her very much. But…

“At some point, you have to realize that some people can stay in your heart but not in your life.”

We have both changed.

“I think that the only reason why people hold onto memories so tight, for so long is because memories are the only things that don’t change, even when people do.”

The part I’ve had so much trouble with is healing. And then the good doctor had something to say about it all.

“Don’t cry because it’s over, smile because it happened.” – Dr. Seuss

In closing:

“Life is short. Break the rules, forgive quickly, kiss slowly, love truly, laugh uncontrollably, and NEVER regret anything that made you smile.”

She did make me smile. And I her. She was one of the closest friends I have ever had, and that is why I will never regret her. And I will never stop loving her. But now I have to forgive myself for looking out for me and walking away when our paths no longer aligned. I have to let this go. I have to let myself heal.

I love you, always, dear friend. I wish you all the things that make you sparkle.

I keep starting this post, and then deleting this post, and then starting it again… I’m just going to say it: I’m really not in the mood to blog right now. LOL

I’m trying really hard to do this everyday (and obviously not succeeding, but doing better than before), but yet I don’t want you guys to be bored with my everyday life… it’s not always exciting and I’m too tired to do something really really fun everyday. But I’m working on it.

Anyway, we had a super fun weekend with family, and while I didn’t take time to create (whoopsie daisy!) I did take time to relax (and even nap!) and I spent some really great time with my Scentsy sisters. If you aren’t familiar with Scentsy, please take a minute to stop by my website and check it out. Scentsy has given me such a wonderful opportunity to stay at home with this super sweet little face and still earn some cash!

I really don’t have much to tell you today, but I’m thinking up my next big project and I hope to have something fun to share tomorrow. Until then… nighty night! :)

There’s something about the ‘end’ of something that drives me. That drives a lot of people.

The end of the month.

The end of the year.

The end of this life.

This is the basis that resolutions are founded on. Goals. Ambitions. Deadlines are my driving force. The thing that pulls at my heartstrings. Procrastination fits in there somewhere, but that’s for another day. But it’s related.

I was doing some reading today. I was “stuck in a blog” as my husband and I like to joke. When suddenly I was inspired. I am often inspired by others’ blogs and projects, but this was long-term inspiration. Project 365 has been a big movement in the arts community, and I only first heard of it when my brother took a stab at it last year. He accomplished Project 100. An admirable feat, considering the number of jobs he has and his lack of free time. I loved the idea, and considered my own photo journal… but when I thought about it, I really don’t love photography enough to devote an entire year to growing in it. That’s not to say that I don’t want to learn more or that someday I may have a deeper passion for it, but right now I am very comfortable in my amateur state.

However…

I read today about others who are taking on 365 day challenges outside of photography. I don’t know why I haven’t thought of this before.

So… deadlines…

It’s silly to start something new on, say, the 23rd of February. So… I’m going to spend the next 6 days focusing my energy on getting my house back in order after the crazy month I’ve had. But I am super excited for March 1st.

Starting March 1st I am going to post a project a day. Now, ‘project’ is a loose term here. My goal is to find a way to channel some creative energy every day. Some days that may be an entire painting finished and hung on the wall, and other days that may just be a napkin doodle from lunch. Either way, I want to find a way to have some “me” time every day, doing the things I love.

My little Bubbie is 18 months old, and he is absolutely the light of my life. I could go on and on about how wonderful he is, but what mother couldn’t brag about her kid? Instead, I wanted to share a couple of things I’ve observed lately…

First of all, my son might just be the most generous, thoughtful person I know. And he has no idea what it means to be those things. I think that’s what makes it so beautiful. I recently started watching a friend’s 6 month old baby in the mornings. He is so different from my boy. He’s tiny and sleepy and he cries… a lot. After all, he’s just a baby. Peyton grew up at some point, though I can’t pinpoint when it happened. Either way, when the baby cries, Peyton becomes very seriously concerned. He gets little worry lines in his forehead and begins looking around frantically. He’s not looking for the baby, though. He’s looking for something to console him with. Sometimes it is a toy, sometimes it is a binky, and sometimes he runs to the kitchen and tugs on the refrigerator door, as if to tell me “he’s hungry, Mom!!” How does he know?!?! And why does he even care? It amazes me that he can be so concerned for another person when he’s so small himself.

The other thing that has been fascinating to me lately is the way he shares things. At dinner time, when it’s something that he could really take or leave, he eats what he wants and then he’s done. But when it is something he really loves, he wants to share it. His goldfish are an excellent example. He will have a snack cup full of goldfishes, and he eats one, then offers one to me, and then one to his dad. Cookies, chocolate, whatever it is… if it’s delicious, he wants to share. I think it is so neat that he has no concept of where it came from, first of all, and whether or not there is more… but even more so, that he is happy to share his favorite things. As adults, I think we tend to “hoard” our favorite things, and the less of something we have, the stingier we are.

I recently heard one of the djs on KLOVE telling a story about how her son asked her one day if he could give his granola bar to the man that was asking for money at the stoplight they were sitting at. She was heartbroken that not only had she not wanted to do the same, but she wasn’t sure she was okay with him doing it. There is so much danger associated with strangers, but are we creating that danger for ourselves? Are they really that scary? Can’t we be doing more to help those in need and show them God’s love, the way a child would?

Some people love it, some people hate it, a lot of people get engaged on this day, and a lot of people spend the day mourning the loss of love. I suppose there’s something to be said for the amount of emotion it evokes, but nevertheless, I see the “holiday” as a bit ridiculous.

A couple days ago, my boys and I were driving home and I was checking out my Facebook news feed. My brother Keith had posted a link to an article his friend Aarik had written entitled Love in the Eyes of Art. I loved his take on the subject.

The way Aarik sees it, artists (namely song writers) have three main “compartments” of love: love is a fairytale, love is a battlefield, or love is all futility or frivolity. Three extremes. And I agree. I related so strongly to his article because I’ve been in the midst of this dilemma myself.

Music, movies, books, and television shows will all have us believe that there is only one way to be in love, and that is dramatically. On the one hand there is Cinderella and her prince, who sweeps her off her feet, saves her life, and they live happily ever after. And on the other hand there’s your typical Hollywood romantic comedy that tells you that first you will fall in love, then he will hurt you, and then he will do something incredible to win you back and you’ll live happily ever after. Of course there are also the neigh-sayers who tell you that there is no such thing as love and they live the life of Barney Stinson (How I Met Your Mother) or a crazy cat lady. But I’m more concerned with the first two.

I first started to struggle with the notion of “my love isn’t good enough” when I heard the song ‘Bold as Love’ by John Mayer on his live CD ‘Where the Light Is.’ At the end of the song he breaks into somewhat of a rant, and the piece that sticks with me is where he says “And I don’t mean like, Roman candle, fireworks, Hollywood hot pink love. I mean, like, “I got your back”-love.” (see the entire speech referenced below**).

I’m going to be the first person to tell you that the love in my house isn’t pretty. It doesn’t wear make-up, and most days it doesn’t even change out of pajamas. Our love has sticky floors and streaky windows. It has dirty dishes and yelling matches. It makes snarky comments and leaves dirty socks on the floor. Over and over again. But you know what? It is the most comforting thing I have ever known, and the best thing I have ever been a part of.

Now, I’m not saying we’re in the clear — that we’re never going to be at risk for that love ending — but I am saying this: I realize that love takes work. A successful relationship takes work. And what a successful relationship looks like to us may be completely different from what it looks like to someone else. What I’m trying to tell you is this: PLEASE don’t let the Reese Witherspoon movies and Tim McGraw music of this world influence the way you feel about love. Embrace what you have. And share it.

** So check it out right, I’ve tried every approach to living. I’ve tried it all. I haven’t tried every thing, but I’ve tried every approach. Sometimes you have to try everything to get the approach the same, but whatever. I’ve tried it all. I’ve bought a buncha stuff. I went “ehh, I don’t like that.” I kinda came in and out of that a coupla times.

I thought I would shut myself off. I thought maybe that’s cool. Maybe that’s what you have to do to become a genius is you have to be mad. So if you can get mad before the word genius, then maybe you can make genius appear. Right? That doesn’t work either.

And I’m in a good place. I’ve paced myself pretty well. I’m 30, I’ve seen some cool stuff. I made a lot of stuff happen for myself. I made a lot of stuff happen for myself. That’s a really cool sentence when you’re in your 20s, right? “I made it happen for myself.” But all that means is that I’ve just somehow or another found a way to synthesize love. Or synthesize soothing. You can’t get that, and what I’m saying is I’ve messed with all the approaches except for one, and it’s gonna sound really corny, but that’s just love. That’s just love.

I’ve done everything in my life that I’ve wanted to do except just give and feel love for my living. And I don’t mean like, uh, Roman candle, fireworks, Hollywood hot pink love. I mean, like, “I got your back”-love. I don’t need to hear “I love ya.” You guys love me. I love you. We got that down. But some of the people who would tell you they love ya were the last people to just have your back. So I’m gonna experiment with this love thing. Giving love. Feeling love. I know it’s corny but it’s the last thing I’ve got to check out before I check out.